TOSRV Day 1 – Prayers and profanity

I told you I didn’t want to do it.

I dreaded it even more because of the weather forecast.

My alarm went off at 5am.

I wanted to eat at least an hour before starting the ride and didn’t want to risk rushing and forgetting something important.

TOSRV (Tour of the Scioto River Valley) is notorious for bad weather, so this was apparently nothing.

After the pouring rain the previous day, I was thankful it was just drizzling.

It was a good start because I got a riding buddy.

I met a woman a little younger than me at the starting point, also riding solo in her first group ride, her first multi-day ride.

K and I had easy conversation as we rode toward Circleville. 

We pushed each other, probably because we didn’t want to be slowing the other one down.

We were both learning the “lingo” and riding practices.

It made me feel much better knowing I was not the only newbie.

 

We made it to the first food stop thirty miles away so fast.

 

We chatted up other cyclists (choosing the ones who looked like hippies who had been riding this thing for 20+ years) for tips on how to eat and hydrate throughout the ride.  My favorite food station featured an elderly man spreading a huge dollop of peanut butter on your bagel.

And then we lost each other.

 

When we started out again, bikes crowded the road.

K was riding behind me.  I heard her say that her muscles felt fatigued.  I told her I was feeling it too, but I kept my legs moving.

A minute later, I looked back.

 

I didn’t see K.

I slowed down thinking perhaps she stopped to drink water.

A few minutes later, I still didn’t see K.

Maybe she got a muscle cramp.

Maybe she had a flat tire.

I rode as slow as possible for about 20 minutes.

K never caught up to me.

I had lost my riding partner, and I discovered that I am a terrible riding partner.  I hoped nothing bad had happened and that she would eventually make it to Portsmouth.

I still had a lot to learn, and I would be learning it on my own for the next 75 miles.

The rain stopped, and I could enjoy the scenery.

I was surprised how fast I made it to Chillicothe, the lunch stop and mid-way point.

 

As I ate lunch, I reflected on how good I felt with 50 miles behind me.

Perhaps it was the supportive people cheering us on as we entered each city.  My personal favorite was the lady sitting on a lawn chair ringing a bell as we entered Chillicothe.

But I knew the worst was yet to come.

Everyone warned me about the hills on the way to Waverly.

I set out ready for the challenge.

It was much worse than I could have expected.

For about an hour, I alternated cursing and praying.

Please, let me make it up this hill.

Five consecutive hills without a break…

Please, let this be the last hill…

…At least for five minutes.

I have no photos to document these challenging hills because I knew that if I got off my bike, I may never get on it again.  My legs would turn to jello, and I would just lay down on the side of the road.

This was actually the case for the entire ride.  I did not get off my bike once to take a photo, only using my camera at the three food stops.

I would ride up a terrible hill on the lowest gear, barely moving, my only solace was knowing that I could coast down and build up speed for the next hill. 

And then this.

Are you freaking kidding me?!!  Who put a damn stop sign there?!

 

 

I made it through the hills without stopping (although I’m quite certain I could have walked faster than ride on some of those hills.)

A cruel joke

Someone had the bright idea of making us walk up these steps at the food stop in Waverly to actually get to the food and water.

 

I couldn’t believe I had less than 30 miles left.

I really was going to finish.

But this was the longest 30 miles of my life.  It was mostly flat, but it felt like it would never end. This is the only time I had to stop between destinations.

I had to gu.

(yes, I’m making that a verb)

 

I heard marathon runners use these packets mid-race.  I have no idea if it really worked or if it was all in my head, but I was able to power through.

Finally off in the distance,

I saw the beautiful suspension bridge connecting downtown Portsmouth to Kentucky.

I was determined.  I knew I could make it.